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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301717">Same Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia'>KannaOphelia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1980s, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Extra Shipoween Treat, Fluff and Humor, Halloween, Halloween and All Soul's Night traditions, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Just some cuteness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ridiculous suggestive 1980s cocktail names, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:21:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>977</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27301717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I used to like human fortune-telling on All Saint's Night.  Finding rings in mashed tatties. Flinging apple peel over your shoulder to see the initial of your future husband."</p><p>"Must've worked well. Especially if most people's names began with <em>S.</em>"</p><p>"I thought that one was down to you. Apples, you see."</p><p>"Not everything to do with apples is mine."</p><p>"I always think of you when I eat apples," Aziraphale said dreamily, dragging his perfectly manicured finger in Crowley's Fluffy Duck and gathering up foam. He licked it off his finger, and Crowley forgot how to breathe. </p><p>"S'nice," he muttered. "Thinking of me." Crowley really was drunk. That wasn't something he should be saying. Things either of them should be saying.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Same Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_of_Words88/gifts">Writer_of_Words88</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Shipoween! &lt;3</p><p>Extra dedication now this is no longer anonymous: I am so glad to have lured you and your writing talents into exchanges, my dear. Couldn't resist treating you. All the hugs!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>1983</strong>
</p><p>"Do you mean to say, if I don't give sweets to these children, they will vandalise the shop?"</p><p>"Yup." Crowley stretched out on booth seating, in the long shivery movement of someone with too many vertebrae. The nightclub that was currently Rendezvous Spot 9 was always busy, yet a private "With sticky fingers. Can I stick some bats up on your dome? Don't need to add spiders and cobwebs, you already have them."</p><p>"The shop is <em>pristine.</em> As are my books. And in any case, they won't be sticky fingers if I don't give them sweets," Aziraphale said, with the pink-cheeked triumph of an angel who has finished his fourth piña colada of the evening and was finding it boosted his logic. He pulled out the little pink froufrou umbrella and sucked the cherry off its stick in a way that made Crowley's throat suddenly dry. "Oh, my glass is empty," he said, looking at it plaintively. He shifted his tragic gaze to Crowley, who immediately sat up again and signaled a waitress in a bunny uniform. The demon's annoyed grimace utterly failed to conceal how eagerly he had jumped to the task.</p><p>"Same again? Or can I tempt you to a Screaming Orgasm?" offered Crowley, who had himself drunk enough to find the thought hilarious and, regrettably, arousing. He'd come up with most current cocktail naming schemes himself, and got a commendation for them.</p><p>"Oh, what's a Screaming Orgasm? Can I have one?" Aziraphale asked, perking up.</p><p>Crowley considered and discarded three replies. "You'll like it, it's all creamy."</p><p>"That sounds delectable. I must say drinks are more interesting than they used to be. What are you having?"</p><p>"I suppose there's no chance of a Long Slow Comfortable Screw Against the Wall? Or Between the Sheets?" He lifted an eyebrow hopefully, but Aziraphale just blinked innocently at him, and he sighed. "I'll settle for a Fluffy Duck."</p><p>"I preferred it when it was Nutcracker Night," sighed Aziraphale. "I liked giving the children their nuts and berries and apples."</p><p>"Now it's all about artificial colours and flavours," Crowley said cheerfully. "Some of my best work. A whole night dedicated to children performing Devil worship--or at least what can convincingly look like Devil worship in my reports," he added hastily, remembering that it was best not to push Aziraphale too far if he wanted the Arrangement to continue. "I'll spend Halloween at your shop, shall I? Scare away any pesky trick or treaters."</p><p>"Handing out soul cakes, promising to pray for the souls of the dead," sighed Aziraphale wistfully, apparently forgetting that he had pretended not to know what Halloween was ten minutes earlier.</p><p>"Angel, you can't seriously expect me to encourage prayer. Not that it makes any difference anyway."</p><p>"Dear little carved turnip lanterns."</p><p>"Mostly pumpkins these days."</p><p>"And the darling costumes."</p><p>"Still got those. D'know about <em>darling</em>. Lot of fake blood."</p><p>"And the songs. Don't know where this trick or treat nonsense came from. It's all terribly American."</p><p>"That movie about the alien. <em>E.T.</em> Kids here saw it and thought, free sugar."</p><p>"Oh, really?" Aziraphale seemed pensive, and not as though he was concentrating. Crowley, through his haze of alcohol and pleasure at the angel's presence, felt a little worried. "Things change so fast, these days."</p><p>"They always did. Especially after the Tower of Babel."</p><p>"I used to like human fortune-telling on All Saint's Night. Finding rings in mashed tatties. Flinging apple peel over your shoulder to see the initial of your future husband."</p><p>"Must've worked well. Especially if most people's names began with <em>S.</em>"</p><p>"I thought that one was down to you. Apples, you see."</p><p>"Not everything to do with apples is mine."</p><p>"I always think of you when I eat apples," Aziraphale said dreamily, dragging his perfectly manicured finger in Crowley's Fluffy Duck and gathering up foam. He licked it off his finger, and Crowley forgot how to breathe.</p><p>"S'nice," he muttered. "Thinking of me." Crowley really was drunk. That wasn't something he should be saying. Things either of them should be saying.</p><p>"I like apples."</p><p>"Yeah. Me too."</p><p>Aziraphale flopped back on the booth couch. Crowley copied him. They lay, the tops of their heads almost touching, staring at the ceiling, which was covered with a mirror. Was this what She saw when she looked down at them? They'd lain like this once on a beach... oh, where was it again? Somewhere in Mesopotamia. Staring at the stars, pointing out the ones Crowley had helped work on. If She had looked, she had never punished Aziraphale. Probably she hadn't been watching at all.</p><p>Crowley remembered. He remembered every single time Aziraphale had forgotten they were supposed to be Adversaries, and had just been his best friend. And perhaps more, but it wasn't like he could say it.</p><p>Aziraphale was gold and cream and cherubic beauty, and Crowley was narrow edges and dark glasses but, still. They looked right together.</p><p>"And when you look into a looking glass, you see your true love's reflection beside you," Crowley said, remembering.</p><p>So many expressions moving across that gentle face, so quickly Crowley couldn't read them all. Or maybe it was the night club's changing lights. "My apple peels always formed a <em>C</em>."</p><p>"Angel." Crowley turned, his lips seeking, but the angle was awkward and the table was in the way and Aziraphale was on his feet again.</p><p>"Must go. Duty calls. I'll see you on the 31st, hmm?"</p><p>No point following. Crowley lay back down and stared at his reflection in the mirrored ceiling. Alone.</p><p>"Sir? Your friend sent you a drink."</p><p>"Mmgh?" He struggled up. The drink was layered, gold and cream on top, dark beneath. Cherry on top. "What is it?"</p><p>"An Angel's Kiss."</p><p>Crowley cradled it in his hands a long moment. Then he lifted it reverently to his lips.</p>
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